‘Write Here’ takes us into our authors’ writing spaces across the globe, where they tell us about how they go about their craft. We mark each location on the map at the bottom of each post. Today we travel to Manhattan, New York, where Imbolo Mbue writes from the living room in her apartment.
Central Park is New York City’s winter preserve. Whenever it snows here – and it does snow, though infrequently – the snow that falls on the rest of the city remains white and pristine for about half an hour, if that. It is then quickly transformed, by snowplows, into sooty curbside icebergs, more black and gray than white, littered with cigarette butts, gum wrappers, and dog urine. Only in Central Park does the snow remain pristine, and free of trash. Only in Central park are there fields of sparkling white during the days and, at night (my own favorite), little illuminated circles of snow at the base of every lamppost. When it snows I, along with many other New Yorkers, flock to Central Park like pilgrims to a shrine.
The Snow Queen is out now. Find out more here.